Give the Devil His Dues
by NCCJFAN
Summary: POST SKIN & BONES. What if the Albanian mob ties ran deeper than Jordan ever imagined? What if her testimony against the mob endangers the man she loves most?
1. Tenacles

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything remotely connected with Crossing Jordan. It all belongs to Tim King and Tailwind Productions who are really doing a good job with the show….**

**Hey….it_ could_ happen.**

* * *

**_You've got me_.**

That's what she told him. And she had meant it. With all her heart.

She still did, even though she was thousands of miles away…alone. She had left Boston. Not because she wanted to, but because she had to.

She had to in order to protect Woody. She groaned and bit her lip at the pain that now sliced through her body. She never expected it to turn out this way… not after that Monday when she woke up nearly a year ago and thought, _life couldn't be getting any better._

For once, her life had taken an upward swing. So much had happened during that last year…LA and Woody telling her he wanted to hold her tighter. Then after discovering the remains of the old Boston mob bosses in a shallow grave, she had told him that he would always have her…even if everyone else deserted Woody, she was his. He had reached over and taken her hand then. She smiled through her pain at the memories. They had grown so close. She had been at the place in her life where she simply couldn't imagine her living without him.

She didn't want to then, but the harsh fact now was that he wasn't here. He couldn't be with her again for a long time…if ever. She grimaced at the pain that continued to spread through her body as she reluctantly began to roll out of bed and face reality. A reality that didn't include him.

* * *

It had begun with a visit to her office by a stranger with a foreign accent. "Good morning, Dr. Cavanaugh," the man said, in a voice that was heavy a dialect Jordan had hard time identifying. "May I come in?" He pushed past her without waiting for her answer.

"No….wait….who are you?" Jordan had asked

"It's not important that you know who I am. It is important that you realize just how much I know about you."

Jordan felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She didn't answer him…just kept her own gaze even with his cold one.

"Ah. I can see you don't get rattled easily, Dr. Cavanaugh. Good. Why don't we sit right here," he sank down on the couch in her office and patted the cushion beside him, "and have a little chat. I promise you will not get hurt if you cooperate."

"And I've heard that line more times than I can count. I'm calling the police."

"Trust me, Jordan. You do not want to do that." He held up a hand to stop her.

"Why? Why should I believe you?"

"Because. I know you. I know all about you. Who your friends are….where they live. Where you live..."

Unnerved, but keeping her face blank, Jordan warily sat down in a chair across from the man. "What's your name?" she asked.

"That is not important. I am here to request that you not testify in the Albanian mob case."

So. That was it. The accent should have been a dead give away. "Sorry. No can do."

"I realize you are the lead ME on that case…you have enough forensic evidence to put my Albanian brothers away for a long time. As well as the brother of the man you love. I am here to try to persuade you not to do this."

"Not a chance. The trial is in three months….and I'm ready to go forward."

"I would urge you not to do that, Dr. Cavanaugh."

"Not a chance."

"Your actions will put people in grave danger."

"Maybe those people need to be in grave danger. Maybe those people should be stopped."

"Even this one?" He threw photograph in Jordan's lap. "I warn you, Dr. Cavanaugh. If you testify, this person will be hurt…badly. Probably permanently. Especially if you do go to the police, or tell this person he is in danger." He stood to leave. "Good day, doctor. I trust you will make the right decision. We will be watching you. Closely."

Jordan picked up the picture and turned it over to look at it as she heard the man leave and the door shut behind him. Turning it over in her hand, her heart caught in her throat. It was a photograph of Woody.

* * *

Her investigation into the Albanian mob case had taught her one hard lesson: The tentacles of the organization ran deep and spread out into areas she had no idea they had influence in. The further she traced it, the deeper and wider it ran. If anyone could do physical harm and get away with it, these guys would. So she took the threat made on Woody's life seriously. If she was being watched, they would know when she was with Woody. And if they knew when she was with him, they may think she was passing on the information that he was in danger.

Her fear was tangible. The risk was unacceptable.

She began to avoid being alone with Woody…a behavior he now found confusing. Since they had become closer, time alone was cherished. "What's wrong?" he asked, one afternoon when she had once again two-stepped around the issue of going out.

"Nothing…nothing is wrong, Woody. I just need to work late tonight."

He shot her a puzzled look. "You've said you had to work late every night this week that I've asked you out. Have I done something to make you mad?" He tilted her chin up and looked into her eyes. That was nearly her undoing….those eyes.

"No…"

"Look, if we're taking this relationship thing too fast for you, let me know… we can go slower…"

_And if we go any slower, we won't be moving at all_, Jordan thought. "No … I'm fine with everything, Woody. It's just that…" her voice had trailed off and she bit her lip. "It's just this case I have…it's got me preoccupied and I guess I'm just too caught up in it."

"It's not your mother's murder again?" he asked sharply…knowing that could cause Jordan to go off the deep end.

"No…it's not that."

"Promise?"

"I promise. It has nothing to do with that."

Woody sighed and pulled her to him. "Okay. Just…don't let it get the best of you…because that's the part I want for me," he had jokingly told her before he kissed her and let her go…for her to go back to her office and him to go back to his apartment… alone, but safe.


	2. Let Me Stay Tonight

**Chapter Two**

_What is wrong with her_? Nigel wondered, watching Jordan immerse herself in yet another autopsy…not saying much, just carefully running her tests and trace. Jordan was quiet…too quiet…and the dark circles under her eyes and the worry lines etching her mouth and eyes were clear signs that something…or perhaps someone was on her mind.

Nigel knew that she and Woody had been seeing each other, but lately the blue-eyed detective hadn't been around as much as usual. Everyone had assumed that the couple was seeing each other outside of work…but maybe not. Maybe that was what was wrong.

"Nige, could you close for me?" Jordan asked, bringing him out of his reverie. "I've got a headache…a really bad one."

"Are you alright Jordan? That's the third headache you've had this week."

"Yeah, I'm fine…" she trailed off as she headed out the doors and to her office. It was there Nigel found her an hour later, her head in her arms, on her desk.

"Jordan, if you're not feeling well, you can go home. I'll cover for you," Nigel said, coming around to her chair to rub her shoulders. The tension between the muscles in her back shocked him. They were nearly rock-hard.

"I'll be okay…it's just these headaches…" she lifted her face and Nigel could have sworn he saw traces of tears. He shut the door to her office.

"Okay, Jordan. What is it, love? Don't you think it's time to come clean with me? You've ducked out of autopsy three times this week and look like hell. Is something wrong between you and Woody?"

She shook her head. "No…not exactly…yes, sort of, but he doesn't know." She sounded thoroughly confusing. Nigel grasped at the only thought that ran through his mind.

"Are you pregnant, Jordan?"

Jordan gave a bitter laugh. "No…nothing like that. I mean we haven't…" she broke off her statement to blush slightly.

"Oh. Well. Then can you tell me what's wrong? Are you sick? Is Woody sick?"

Shaking her head again, she denied that question. "It's worse than that." She looked away, wrapping her arms around her waist, as if to protect herself.

"Then what is it?"

"I shouldn't tell you…I honestly shouldn't…but I need to talk to someone…or I'm going to go crazy…" Slowly…hesitantly the story came out of her…about the stranger…her apprehension of being watched…her fears for Woody. Nigel listened with his mouth open in disbelief.

"So that's why he hasn't been around so much…you're avoiding him…" Nigel said.

"For his own safety…and I can't tell him…however, he's beginning to be suspicious. I've been blaming our lack of time together on work, but that's wearing thin with him, I can tell. I don't want to lose him, Nige, but I do want him safe. And after investigating the Albanian mob, you know what they are capable of…"

Nigel nodded. "Who have you told?" he asked quietly.

"Just you."

"There's not a lot I can do, Jordan. I do think we should tell Dr. Macy. And possibly Rene' Walcott."

"I can't get too many people involved, Nigel. They'll suspect something…and if Walcott knows and Woody gets wind through the DA's office…"

"He could be in big trouble and not know anything about it." Nigel sighed. "We've got to do something…I suggest we start with Dr. Macy."

Jordan nodded, tears coming to her eyes again. "I just don't want Woody hurt," she whispered. "He means too much…I love him, Nige."

"Does he know that?"

"Not yet."

"You need to tell him…but first, we need to talk to Garret."

* * *

Garret listened with the same amount of disbelief and apprehension that Nigel did. "How long has this been going on, Jordan?" he asked.

"About two weeks. I've just been hesitant….scared…to tell anyone."

"I understand why, but you should have come forward long before now. We have ways of protecting you and Woody."

"But it was more than that. He knew everything…that man knew everything about me. My friends. Where they lived. Where I lived. Cal. Woody…everything. I couldn't risk it. I couldn't put everyone in jeopardy…"

Garret pondered what she had told him for a moment…and then checked his calendar. "The trial is due to come up in three months. How do you feel about taking an extended vacation until that time?"

"Go away?" she asked…shocked at the suggestion.

"Yeah. Disappear for three months. That will keep you, Woody, and everyone else safe…then we'll bring you back the day you're supposed to testify."

Nigel nodded. "It could work."

"But where would I go? This guy said they know all about me…and they're watching."

Garret glanced at Nigel. "They don't know everything. There are ways….aren't there Nige?"

"Yes, love. I can find a place for you…make you disappear so well for a while that no one will be able to find you. Bury you deep underground." That much was true, Jordan realized. Nigel had connections no one knew about.

"But what will I tell Woody?"

"You won't," Garret replied. "The fewer people that know, the better. I will need to tell Rene', so she won't hold you in contempt of court. She will keep her mouth shut, I promise."

Jordan paced. "I don't want to…I don't want to leave you…and him….for so long."

"But you want him safe, don't you?" Garret asked.

She nodded.

"Then get to work, Nigel," Garret told the lanky Brit. "Find her a place and get her out of here."

* * *

Nigel did. And he did it quickly. By the end of that day, all the arrangements had been made. Jordan wasn't even sure where she was going. Nigel was taking her there first thing tomorrow morning. That gave her one evening to get ready – to pack and say good-bye to Woody without him realizing what she was doing.

She drove over to his apartment with some hesitation. She didn't want to put him in harm's way, but she knew if anything happened, and she hadn't at least told him good-bye, she'd live with more regrets than she could handle. She climbed the stairs to his apartment and softly knocked.

"Jordan," was all he said when he opened the door and found her standing there.

"Can I come in?"

He held the door open. "It's been a long time. I thought maybe I had said something or done something…"

She shook her head. "No. It's like I said…there's this case…"

"And it's over now?" He shut the door behind them.

"Not exactly, but I've done all I can do."

"Which one was it…the case, I mean. Did I work on it?"

"No, this was something Garret had me on." She took him by the hand and led him over to the couch. "I've missed you, Woody. I've missed being with you." She looked him in the eyes…

"I've missed you, too. You can't let cases get to you like this, Jo. It's not healthy."

"I know…but this case was different."

"How so? And are you hungry? We could order a pizza…watch a movie…" He was just glad she was here…and wanted keep her with him for as long as possible.

"I'm not hungry… I just … I just came by to …to…."

"To what?"

_What the hell am I supposed to say…to tell you good-bye for a while…and that it's for your own good that you don't know where I've gone? That I'm not really running this time? That I will be back?_ The bitter truth was, she couldn't say any of that. "I just came by to tell you that I've missed seeing you…and I…I…."

Woody had never known Jordan to be tongue-tied. Something was wrong. "What is it, Jordan? You can tell me," he coaxed, gently running his hands down her arms. Yeah. There was something wrong…he could read it in her eyes. He didn't know what, but she'd tell him before the night was over.

"I just wanted to be with you tonight. Please."

Dumbstruck. That's what he was. Completely thrown off guard. He had expected anything other than that from her. They had both agreed to take their relationship slowly. What on earth had happened to make her want to hit the fast forward button? "Is something wrong? Have I missed something?" he asked, still a little bewildered at her sudden confession.

"No…" she said, lying through her teeth…she hoped he could read nothing in her expression but the fact that she had missed him the past week or so and was going to miss him more in the weeks ahead. "You told me we could take this as fast or as slowly as I wanted. I've made up my mind…"

"You're sure?"

She nodded. "Please?"

He took her pocketbook from her arm and threw it on the couch. Then he slipped her jacket off and threw it there, too. "You're really sure?" he asked, pulling her into his arms.

"Yes…"

He caught her lips in a soft kiss…one she could easily pull out of if she changed her mind…only she didn't. She gave him kiss for kiss until she felt him walking her backwards through his apartment into the bedroom and the back of her knees hit the side of the bed. "Still sure?" he asked, catching her chin with his thumb and index finger so he could look her in the eyes. She nodded, and he turned up the heat of those kisses as he gently eased her back on the bed…unbuttoning her blouse and sliding it off…letting her tug his shirt over his head. Fumbling for her bra clasp and finding it in the front and not the back…undressing her slowly.

And Jordan let him, reveling in the feel of his arms around her…the hardness of his muscle contrasting with the soft, pliant feel of his lips, marveling at how secure she felt in this place with him.

Fighting back the bitter tears that she may only have this one night. Refusing to think about tomorrow and let herself be only concerned with today…now…how it felt when he touched her here or kissed her there…how his breath caught in his throat when she would moan and move beneath him. How complete she felt with him…where they were joined…the places he took her that she had only dreamed about.

Until it was over and he slept in her arms. Before daybreak, she had eased herself out from under him, gently stroked the hair back off his forehead and lightly kissed his lips one more time. And then whispered, "I love you, Woody," in a voice so low the angels would have had to stoop to hear.


	3. A Call from Kewuanne

**Chapter Three**

Seattle was just as cold and snowy as Boston was…and rainier than Jordan ever imagined.

Seattle. That was where Nigel finally had put her…although not without a few stops in between. First, she had stayed in Rhode Island. Tiny little state…easy to over look. She had stayed there until the trial. Until other "circumstances" had taken over.

After leaving Woody that morning, she had gone home, packed her favorite CD's, some clothes, her laptop, her guitar, and met Nigel at the curb at six o'clock sharp. He had hurriedly put her things in a borrowed van and drove like the Devil himself was behind them….into Rhode Island and to a safe house. He had helped her get settled in…and turned around and left her….but not without the promise that he and Garret, and more than likely Rene', would be in touch. Meanwhile, she would be fine there. Nigel had people watching out for her. Just try to relax and get some rest, was his advice.

Not very likely. Not when she had the feeling that the Albanian mob knew everything that was going on. She held her breath and tried to have somewhat of a normal life there, but missed her morgue family…and Woody even more. She hated she had to leave him like she did that morning, but had little choice. She just hoped that as the truth played itself out, that he would understand, forgive her….and still love her.

* * *

"Have you seen Jordan?" That was the question of the day…the hour…for Woody.

When he woke up the morning after they had made love…after the night he had made her his, she was gone. _She's run again_, was the first thought that went through his mind. She still wasn't ready for that kind of intimacy. So he laid low the rest of the day…waiting until they both had some time to really process what had happened between them. She had come to him. She asked him to take her to his bed. He had the most incredible night of his life…feeling her hands on him…her response…the soft words spoken to each other…

And then he woke up in a cold bed, alone.

What had gone wrong? She ran…but why? After two days of hearing nothing from her, Woody decided to find out. She wasn't answering his calls on her cell phone or apartment phone…and his messages to her office went unanswered. So on the pretext of delivering some files, he strode into the morgue one afternoon, finding his way to her office.

Only to find it dark and locked.

Undaunted, he retraced his steps and found Nigel. "Where's she at?" he asked abruptly.

"Who, mate?" Nigel replied, looking engrossed in some tests he was running.

"You know who. Jordan. Where is she?"

"Not here. She's taking a few days off."

"Do you know where she went?"

"Not a clue, Woodrow."

"Do you know when she'll be back?"

Nigel looked up from the computer screen. "I'm really not sure. Macy should know. I just heard she had to have some time off and took it."

Woody nodded and left. It was three more days before he could corner Garret. "Where's Jordan?" he asked the chief ME, when he had finally tracked the man down in trace.

"Jordan? She's taken some time off, Woody."

"How long?"

"Several weeks…she's got five years worth of vacation coming…she could conceivably take a month or longer off and it would be fine."

"You'd let her stay gone that long?"

"If she asked for it, I'd legally have to give it to her, Woody."

Woody sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. She was gone…she hadn't run, but she was gone for a while. She left the day after they had made love. What did this mean? Tentatively he hedged another question at Garret. "When did she ask for the vacation time?" he asked.

"Do you two have a case together I don't know about? Because if you did, I believe she's gave Nigel and Bug all the information on those."

"No. It's not that," Woody snapped back at the older man. "I need to talk to her. Tell me, when did she ask for the vacation time?"

Garret hesitated for a moment. The dark circles under Woody's eyes and the way he was holding himself told the ME that Woody was on the edge….worrying and wondering about Jordan. He hated to do this, but it was for Woody's own good…and protection…and Jordan would want him safe. "She called me early Tuesday morning. Said something personal had come up and she needed the time off immediately."

Tuesday. The morning after…how could she? Woody felt the anger began to rise in his chest and spread. A cold anger…he wasn't just mad…he was furious. "Will you be talking to her?"

"I don't know."

"If you do, could you tell her something for me?"

"Sure…."

"Tell her to call me…"

"I can't make any promises, Woody. She was upset when she left…I don't know if she'll call in or not."

Woody nodded. "She was upset?"

"Yeah. Said something about needing some time to think things through."

So now she decides she needs time to think…after the fact that they had spent the night together. After the fact they had been intimate….after the fact they had made love.

After the fact that now she had completely stolen his heart and then once again, stomped on it. He turned on his heel and strode out of the morgue. She would have to call him. It would be a cold day in hell before he called her.

* * *

When it rains it pours…and for Woody, it was monsoon season. He had no sooner discovered that Jordan was gone when his cell phone rang. He grabbed it and flipped it open, holding out hope that maybe it was _her_ and that maybe she had a change of heart…had thought things through and was ready to apologize, or at the very least, explain herself, and come home.

No such luck. The caller ID bore a Kewuanne area code. It was Cal.

Woody's blood, which had been at a slow simmer over Jordan, now raged into a full, rolling boil. How dare his brother call him after everything Cal had put him through…endangering Jordan's life….Woody's reputation as a detective? When Cal had left Boston after the raid on the Albanian bar, Woody didn't want to see him again. At least anytime soon. And certainly not now. "What the hell do you want?" Woody barked into the phone.

"Hello to you, too, bro. Just thought I'd call and apologize one more time and see if you had the good grace to forgive me yet."

"Not a chance, Cal. How much do you owe this time and who do you owe it to?" Woody asked, bitterly remembering that ever since Cal had come back into his life, things had begun a downward spiral.

"Hey, man. I don't owe anybody anything. I'm being honest. I'm trying to turn over a new leaf. I'm in Gamblers Anonymous. I'm working on being a better person….I'm working on being like you. I just called to say I'm sorry….really sorry…one more time."

"Whatever," Woody said, making his way back to his office from talking to Garret.

"Yeah… I've tried to call Jordan and apologize to her again. I've tried her apartment and cell phone….I've left five or six messages at her office and I can't get in touch with her. Is she with you?"

"Jordan? No. Why ever would you think that?" Woody ground out angrily.

"Well…I mean….when I was there, it was pretty obvious she had strong feelings for you…you're a lucky man, Woods."

"Had being the operative word, Cal."

Cal stopped talking for a beat. "You mean you two had a fight?"

"I mean she's walked out on me. She left Boston on vacation. No one's sure when she's going to come back and no one knows where she's at. Or at least no one is telling me."

"What? What happened?" After the conversations he and Jordan had about Woody, he couldn't imagine the woman he truly believed would be his sister-in-law would walk out on his brother.

Woody didn't know why he told Cal. Months later, when he reflected on the situation, he still wasn't sure. Was it because they had confided in each other all their lives? Was it because Cal was the one person _other_ than Jordan that truly knew him and understood him?

Or was it because Cal was at the right place at the right time when Woody needed someone to pour his heart out to? Woody wasn't sure. He just knew he told Cal everything….how Jordan had been so engrossed in a case they hadn't really seen each other much for a couple of weeks…how she showed up at his apartment and wanted to stay with him…all night…and then how the next morning she was gone. She had left Boston and him with no warning and no explanation. Finally, after emptying his heart and freeing his soul, Woody took a deep breath and waited for his brother to make some kind of barbed remark…a sarcastic comment…some sort of "I-told-you-so" declaration.

Instead, Cal was uncharacteristically quiet, ... thinking about all the scenarios he was afraid to process running through his mind. Then, in nearly a whisper, he asked his older brother, "Are you _sure_ she's run from _you_, Woody? Or do you think maybe she ran for some other reason….some other reason that would _make_ her leave you?"


	4. Thinking for Everyone

**Chapter Four**

It hit him hard, then…right between the eyes. Jordan hadn't run to get away from him….Jordan had left Boston to protect the case against the mob…and to possibly protect him. Swallowing hard, he barked at Cal, "Where is she? Do you know where she is? Damn it, Cal, answer me."

"Look, Woods, I'm being completely honest with you. I have no idea where she's at. None. But I can try to find her. And when I do, I'll let you know immediately."

Woody ran his fingers through his hair. "Are you sure you can find out where she is?"

"Yeah. I still have my connections…."

"Don't do anything that might get her hurt…"

"I won't. I'll find out what I can and either bring her home to you or take you to her."

Woody sighed. Deeply. "I still don't know if I can trust you, Cal."

"I know. But you can with Jordan. I don't want anything to happen to her. She means too much to you…and I know for a fact that you mean the world to her. If the mob threatened you…by forcing her to either leave or not testify in order to keep you safe, she would do what she had to in order to keep you alive."

Woody felt his anger at Jordan dissipate…melt away into nothing…as another feeling took its place. Fear. A cold, sickfear that something could happen to her. Had happened to her. "How soon can you know?" he asked Cal, his mouth having trouble forming the words.

"Give me a few days."

"Okay…but you promise she won't get hurt….and you'll bring her home?"

"You got it, bro."

* * *

Jordan tried to calm her fears and think logically. But it was hard to be logical when the person you loved was put in jeopardy because of you…and what you knew…and what you had.

Jordan's world had tilted upside down and sideways. And now it was spinning backwards. The time she had alone in Rhode Island only compounded the problem as the whole Albanian mob situation just got uglier…and her life and the lives of the people she loved just became more precarious.

She had talked to Garret last night. He told her about Woody….how on edge he was….how angry he appeared to be at her. "I told him you were on vacation, but he's really pissed at you … he wants you to call him."

"I can't do that…"

"I know. Do you want me to relay some kind of message to him?"

"Just tell him I'm okay…"

"Will do."

And she was okay…sort of. She missed Woody more and more each day. The memories of his touch…his voice….his eyes … played and replayed in her dreams at night. And now, with her world closing in on her while she stayed in Rhode Island until the trial, her recollections of him were the only thing keeping her sane.

She had been counting the days until the trial. Until she could return to Boston and be with him…tell him why she had to leave and hope he understood that she left because she loved him and wanted him safe. That she wouldn't have been able to live with herself if anything happened to him.

But now, her circumstances had changed yet again, as more test results were produced. She may not ever be able to return to Boston and he may never know why…The fears she had kept bottled up inside her for the past two months were threatening to erupt when the doorbell rang.

Cautiously, she went to the door. She had phoned Nigel, but he would not have had time to make it to Rhode Island since that morning. Wondering who it could be, she warily checked the peephole of the door. Her mouth dropped as she opened it. "Cal…." She began.

"May I come in?"

She nodded and opened the door a little wider. He came into the small living area and his eyes caught on the paraphernalia on the coffee table in the middle of the room. "Oh my God," he said. "You're not…"

She nodded. "Yeah. I am. I'm pregnant."

* * *

Cal ran his fingers through his hair…a gesture so reminiscent of Woody that Jordan felt tears come to her eyes … as he listened to her story. "This really complicates things, Jo," he said. "Badly."

"I realize that…"

"You think you know who you're dealing with now….with this Albanian mob. But you have no idea how ruthless they can be. If they find out you're pregnant with Woody's baby… that will be something they can hold over your head the rest of your life. And don't think they wouldn't manipulate it for their own advantage."

Jordan nodded. "I know."

Cal sighed. "Does my brother have a clue that you could be carrying his child?"

"I don't think so. I mean, we only … it was just one time…"

"So I gathered when I talked to him," Cal said wryly.

"Woody sent you here?" Jordan asked in astonishment. She had assumed that Garret may have on some off chance asked Cal to stop and see her…or perhaps the mob was manipulating him…or just maybe Cal was checking up on her for his conscience sake.

"In so many words, yes. He's worried about you. And now he has even more reasons to worry about you."

"He can't know. He can't find out."

"It's his child, Jordan. Yours and his. Don't you think he has a right to know?"

"Not now….I have to try to think for everyone…if the Albanian mob finds out about my baby, they may try to take it…kidnap it to manipulate me." Her hand went protectively across her abdomen. "Or they may try to take me now, pregnant, to coerce Woody or anyone else connected with the case not to testify." She paced….trying to think carefully…and completely. "I can't let anyone know. Not the mob. Not Walcott….and not Woody." She said the last name with a whisper. Woody would never know how much that hurt her. She was carrying his child…a fact that should have filled her with joy…not the fear that nearly broke her heart. A fact that she knew would also have made Woody happy.

But he must never know he had a son or a daughter by her. As a matter of fact, he and their baby would be better off if she never returned to Boston. The mob would have thought they had won…and leave her child and Woody alone.

"I can't go back," she said suddenly to Cal.

Cal sank down on the couch and sighed deeply. "No you can't. If you do, not only will your life be in danger, but so will Woody's and the baby's."

"I'm going to have to disappear."

"I'm afraid so. For good. If the mob finds out about the child, they will never leave you alone. You, the baby, and Woody will always have to live looking over your shoulder…fearing that they could come after you. And they would, if they felt like they needed to."

"Then there's only one person I know that could erase me….make me disappear."

"Nigel?"

She nodded and picked up the phone, trying one more time to get in touch with Nigel Townsend.


	5. Good Bye

**Chapter Five**

Jordan knew more forensically about the Albanian mob than anyone else in Boston, just as she had known more about Blackie Conroy and the Irish mob before the Albanians moved in. She could not only link the bodies that had been found in the shallow graves in the field to the new mob, but she also could link the Albanians to other unsolved homicides that had taken place in Boston over a ten-year period.

In Walcott's terms, Jordan was the glue of the DA's case. Without Jordan, and what she knew…and her evidence, the state's case against the mob dissolved.

But with her testimony, the state's case was rock solid. Some of the Albanian mob members would be charged with murder and put away for life. Would it stop them? No, probably not. However, they would be dealt a crippling blow and the quiet façade of the new Boston mob would be demolished. They would now be known…out in the open…to be both actively feared and resisted. And set up for a possible bloody take-over by another family.

So to keep Jordan quiet…or to find a way to keep her quiet … had been first and foremost on the mob's to do list. Her feelings for Woody had been well known…as well as the fact that they were now a "couple." The mob wasn't stupid. They knew they could manipulate her emotions for the detective to their advantage.

Jordan was aware of that. She also knew that even though she was slated to only testify in this upcoming trial, her knowledge of the way they murdered their enemies would make her a potential witness in all future trials against the Albanian mob. The mob bosses would look for something to threaten her with. Her feelings for Woody may wane. There could possibly come a time when threats against him could not longer be used to keep her quiet.

But a baby…her child…could be a long-term tool for them. If they threatened her child in some way, she would be more apt to be compliant to their wishes in order to keep her baby safe.

So that is why no one…except Cal, Nigel, Garret, and Walcott needed to know she was pregnant. The fewer people that knew about the baby, the better. And Woody didn't need to know…not now. Maybe not ever. Jordan knew Woody…she knew what he would try to do … He would work the system with everything in his power in order to bring down the mob. And if that didn't work, he would try tactics outside the system. Anything to ensure the safety of the baby…but tactics that could also get him killed.

"It's just better he not know right now," she told Nigel. "Maybe later…when things have died down…but not right now."

"Are you sure, love?" he had asked when he arrived at Rhode Island.

Jordan nodded. "You've got to make me go away…disappear."

"I can do that…but Garret and Rene' need to know what's going on."

"I know…"

"Are you positive there's no other way, Jordan? I mean, damn it, this is _Woody's_ baby, too."

"I don't see any other alternative."

* * *

She hadn't shown up at the trial yet. Woody waited…and watched, knowing that at some point she would have to be there. She was on the DA's witness list. And words couldn't begin to express how badly he wanted to see her. How glad he was that she was coming home.

Cal had been less than forthcoming with any information on Jordan. He had been able to confirm to Woody that she was in hiding…and was fine…but not much else. Woody had been forced to leave her alone, knowing that her safety was on the line.

So he had waited. Day by day, until the time for the court date. The day of the trial, he stayed in the witness room until at last, after court had already started, the wooden door opened and she slipped in the room.

She looked thinner…and the dark circles under her eyes bore witness that she hadn't been resting. To be honest, despite her immaculate clothing, she looked like she had been through hell….but it didn't matter to Woody. She was there. "Jordan," was all he could manage to get out before he had her in his arms. "God, I've missed you. And I've been so worried."

Jordan had expected a lot of things during this trial, but she didn't expect to see him in the witness waiting room. He caught her off guard. Vulnerable.

Needy.

She clung to him like he was her life line. "I've missed you, too." He led her over to the couch in the corner of the room.

"Where did they have you? Cal said he would try to find you…he still has his connections, but only told me you were safe. Where were you? And are you okay?" his words came out in a rush, anxious to find out as much as possible before she took the stand.

"Rhode Island…I was in a safe house in Rhode Island. And I'm fine."

"Jesus, it's good to see you again." He smoothed the hair back off her shoulders. She found herself leaning into his touch. He always had a way of calming her, even at the roughest times.

"I didn't think this day would ever get here," she replied, thinking _and I know it's going to end all too soon._

He opened his mouth to reply when the bailiff came to the door and called Jordan. It was time for her to go. She reluctantly began to slip out of his arms, but he pulled her back in for a searing kiss. One she felt all the way to her toes. "I'm right behind you," he whispered. "No one…nothing can hurt you while you're here."

She glanced up in his blue eyes. If only he knew…

* * *

Jordan testified, spilling forensic fact after forensic fact like nails, shutting the lid on the DA's case against the Albanians. Woody watched from the side with a mixture of pride and fear. She had been unusually closed mouth about this case. Now he knew why. A cold dread began to settle in the pit of his stomach, as he realized she knew too much_. Too much for own good, _he thought, as her testimony drew to a close. She was cross examined and then dismissed. There was an unusual hustle to get her out of the courtroom and back into the witness room. Jordan had requested a few minutes alone with Woody before she had to leave … before she had to tell him she had to go.

She never had to even open her mouth. He knew before she said a word.

"You have to leave again, don't you?" he said, when he shut the door behind them and locked it,affording them a few moments of privacy.

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Are they sending you back to Rhode Island?"

"No. Somewhere else… I don't know where."

"For how long?"

Ah. There was the hard part. "I don't….I don't know," she managed to stammer out, hoping the lie wasn't obvious on her face. With their child on the way, she had no idea exactly how long she would need to stay gone. Or if indeed, she could ever even return.

"I know this is to keep you safe," he continued.

_No, you don't know the half of it_, she thought.

"But I think I could do that … keep you safe. I always have."

_And your life has never been threatened before either._

"Isn't there anyway you can stay?" he asked holding her close, looking deep into her whiskey-colored eyes.

_No way in hell_, she thought. "I can't, Woody. It's part of the deal…part of what I had to do. Part of what I have to do now."

"You will come back home." It was a question.

"I don't know…"

He pulled her tighter. "Then, when the time is right…call me. I'll come to you."

_If I only could. _"I will…" she said, hoping he wouldn't see through her lie. There was a knock at her door. It was time. "Kiss me quick."

"So this is good-bye?" It was the hardest thing he had ever done. Let her go…but in Woody's mind, it was for her own safety. If she stayed in Boston, the mob would know exactly where she was at and try to make her an example. A price Woody wasn't willing to pay with the life of the woman he loved. He tucked a curl behind her ear and tilted her chin up with his thumb, bringing her lips to meet his.

This was not the way he had pictured his day ending with her. He had imagined he would take her home with him…have her in his bed with him tonight. And every night afterwards. The three month separation had taught him one thing: Living without her…even for short amounts of time was hard. Now not being with her for a longer period of time seemed damned impossible.

So he kissed her. Thoroughly. As many times as he could before there was another knock at the door…imprinting her scent, the press of her body against his, the feel of her lips beneath his in his mind. That's all he'd have for the next….God knows how long.

The bailiff knocked again. She had to go. He slowly disentangled himself from her, pulling his hand from her hair, sliding the other from her waist, and feeling her just as slowly begin to move away from him.

"I don't want to let you go," he said softly against her lips.

"I don't want to go…but I have to," she replied, resting her forehead against his shoulder. "I'd rather stay right here…with you…for forever."

He hugged her close. "Just let me know when I can come to you. I'll be on the next plane."

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "I will…" She was lying to him again…she hoped he didn't know it, but she was. She turned away before he could see the truth in her eyes. She would have to stay gone.

Nigel was going to make her disappear. He had to. She had danced with the Devil himself…the Albanian mob. Now she had to pay her dues.


	6. The High Cost of Justice

**Chapter Six**

The trip to the airport was a blur. Jordan never remembered much of it…just the pain of her heart breaking in two. Nigel had handed her a folder and envelop with the "new" Jordan. She was now Elizabeth Ann Perkins, originally from New Haven, Connecticut. She had a new social security number, a new date of birth … a whole new history she would need to absorb and remember. Nigel had included id's, a birth certificate, and other information she would need. She was now a forensic specialist. Not too many steps away from an ME, but enough that would keep her out of autopsy and away from too many x-rays and such while she was pregnant.

Then he had handed her the airline tickets. She was now bound for Seattle, Washington. Disbelief showed on her face. "So far?" she asked. "Why?"

"You're safety and your child's safety," he replied, gently hugging her before he let her go. "You already have a doctor there, a job lined up, and a place to stay. I'll be in touch. As will Garret and Rene'. Good luck, Jordan. I'll miss you…hopefully….maybe…." Nigel's voice trailed off. If she was able to return, it would be years away…and so much could change during that time.

"Thanks," she whispered, hugging her friend before she boarded the plane. "Just keep an eye on him for me? Please?"

Nigel nodded as she slipped away from him, boarding her plane as the last call was made. His eyes never left her slim form until she turned the corner. Jordan had done the right thing, testifying against the mob. Now he wondered just how much she was going to have to pay for it.

* * *

"Woody, you got that file on the Hargrove case?" Roz Framus asked her partner.

"Yeah, it's right here," he answered, handing her the file, without looking up from his computer.

That wasn't what Framus wanted. She wanted to look in her partner's face….see if he was okay…because he hadn't been his normal, cheerful-eagle-scout-do-gooder in a long time. Not since the Albanian mob case…not since Jordan had fled Boston.

Woody had realized early on why she had to do it….leave Boston. And for months he had held out hope that Jordan would call him. Then he planned to leave Boston and go to her, so they could begin a new life together, even if it meant living under aliases in another state…or even another country. But as the days and weeks multiplied into months, with no words from the ME, Roz watched her happy-go-lucky partner begin to turn cynical and hard…just a few short steps from being bitter. Bitter about the unfairness of life, the fickleness of fate…

The cost of justice.

Roz feared that while justice had indeed been meted out to the Albanian mob, the price Woody had to pay for that was just too high. She feared for the man's heart…his ability to show compassion…his ability to possibly love again.

"Woods, want to go grab some lunch or something after we close the Hargrove case?" she asked.

"Nah. I'm not hungry."

No, he probably wasn't. He had lost weight…Roz had noticed he had notched his belt a little tighter. He wasn't sleeping. The dark circles under his eyes and numerous empty coffee cups that now always surrounded his desk bore that witness. The truth was, when he wasn't working on his normal cases, he was looking for a way to dismantle the Albanian mob…he did this quietly, surreptitiously, but with an unwavering determination to get rid of the threat on Jordan and allow her to come home.

* * *

She had been outfitted with a blonde wig and green contacts. Rene' was taking no chances of her being recognized. She wore these to work and anytime she went out….hair color would have been more convenient, but Jordan didn't want risk hurting the baby with any of the chemicals in hair dye.

The baby. It was growing bigger in Jordan everyday…getting stronger….kicking harder. The first time she felt it move, she cried, wishing Woody could have been there. To the outsider, Jordan still wasn't showing. Only she had noticed the slight bulge in her abdomen and her breasts getting a little fuller. Her morning sickness had been minimal. But as the days pushed into her fifth month of pregnancy, it was getting harder and harder to hide her impending motherhood. She finally broke down and bought a few maternity things…going to a local mall and shopping…not noticing that a man was following her….down the escalators… out the door… then tailing her home.

Seattle had been safe…Jordan had let down her guard. Working in a forensic lab with people that called her Elizabeth everyday…not looking remotely like herself in the mirror…it was easy to forget sometimes that in reality, she was still Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh…and she had testified against the Albanian mob…successfully putting some of the members behind bars for life.

And that was the farthest thing from her mind tonight, as she tearfully drove home with a bag full of maternity clothes and a few things for the baby, wishing Woody could have been there. She went back to her apartment, unloaded her car, and went in…only to have a knock at the door spin her around. "Cal…?" she asked, her voice trailing off in bewilderment. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to find out how you were doing…I've been worried. Nigel won't say a word, Garret treats me like I have the plague, and do you have any idea how hard it is for me to talk to these people without my brother finding out?"

Jordan chuckled. She could imagine how hard he had to side step in order to still keep Woody in the dark.

"So who told you where I was at? And who knows you're here?" Her hand went protectively over her stomach.

"I found out eventually. And no, the mob has no clue. I'm safe…that's all you need to know."

Jordan looked at him warily. "Cal…I want to believe you…but I can't risk anything."

"Jordan, the same people that are watching out for you are watching out for me…don't worry." The FBI had Jordan under loose surveillance until the baby came. Then they would have to decide if she needed to be relocated again. "So how have you been doing?" He eyed her expanding tummy with interest.

She ignored him. "How is he, Cal? How's Woody?"

Cal sighed. He figured that would be the first thing out of her mouth. How was he going to tell her that his brother's world was slowly falling apart without her…and that Woody could possibly be setting himself up for harm by investigating the mob? He didn't want to upset her. "He's doing as well as can be expected without, baby. He misses you…and still hopes you can come home."

"That's not likely to happen soon."

"Or he wants to come to you."

"That's not likely to happen, either."

"Yeah, I know." Cal pulled her onto the couch. "Now, tell me how you're doing…" She looked tired. Like Woody, she had dark circles under her eyes.

And like Woody, Cal was worried about her. Pregnant women didn't need to be under so much stress. Jordan would never know how responsible Cal felt for the mess she was in…how hard he was working to make it right…if he could.

How very much he was laboring and hoping that his brother and Jordan could be together before long to raise their baby as a family. Jordan and Woody had paid a high price for their work to bring justice. Now Cal was trying desperately to see if he could somehow reimburse them.


	7. I Hate Everything

**Chapter Seven**

The blasting ring of his alarm clock brought him out of an uneasy slumber. He hated getting up in the morning anymore. He hated facing the glaring light of daybreak. Of course, he hated the dark, empty, loneliness of the night, too.

In short, to paraphrase a George Strait song, he hated everything.

He hated Chinese food, pizza, movies….

He hated going to the morgue and seeing her empty office. He hated how every time his phone rang, it wasn't her. He hated how empty his life was without Jordan.

He had even grown to hate police work…his cases…homicides. He was solving a record number of cases and assisting in putting the perpetrators behind bars, but it all was a hollow victory to him now. What was the meaning of justice if you didn't get a little of it yourself? He groaned as he pulled his reluctant, sleep-deprived body out of the bed, forcing himself under a hot shower spray. The only thing that was keeping him going, keeping him motivated, was his work on the Albanian mob. It was slowly making sense…but the shadowy figures that were really pulling the strings of the puppets over here were over there -- in Europe. He knew names. He knew locations.

He also knew that they would be impossible for a regular Boston homicide detective to get. Not without some outside help. And he was coming up empty handed on that end. He turned the shower off and towel dried his hair, getting ready for work. He needed to find another angle if he was to ever get her back in Boston…if he was to ever see her again, he needed to find a way into the mob.

But how?

* * *

The pains were coming harder and faster for Jordan now, as she made herself get up out of bed and call a cab to take her to the hospital. She knew labor was going to be hard…hell, she was a doctor. She knew what it entailed.

She never knew it would hurt so much…As the cab picked her up from the apartment and drove towards Seattle General, she flipped open her cell phone. Although it was nearly 6 a.m. in Washington, Boston would have been humming four or more hours now. She dialed Nigel's number and left him a message. Then she called her FBI contact. From there it was a blur.

She was admitted to labor and delivery. And from there, things began to go horribly wrong. Her blood pressure dropped and then rose. She was losing too much blood. The pains were coming too fast and too hard and her body couldn't keep up with them. The doctors tried to slow down the labor, in order to get her prepped for a c-section, but it was too late. She delivered her baby, a girl, on her own. No pain killers, no labor coach.

No family and no Woody to congratulate her and share in the joy this tiny bundle brought. A daughter. Her daughter. All six pounds nine ounces of her…blue eyes, chestnut hair, and her father's dimples. Jordan melted when she saw her.

Apprehension didn't set in until her FBI contact, a fellow named Murrow, showed up in her room a few hours later. She looked at him, the question in her eyes. "No, Dr. Cavanaugh, as best we can assess, the mob knows nothing about your baby, you, or where you're at. They seem to be a little more preoccupied with something else now…an effort to break them up. We're still going to keep you under surveillance, there's still that danger…but not like it was before. We'll be sealing your baby's birth certificate, just in case…so I need to know what her name is and who her father is."

Jordan thought for a minute. Names were hardest. She had a boy's name ready….because for some reason, she had anticipated having a son. But the baby was a girl….a very beautiful girl. "Her name is Abigail Meredith … Hoyt. And her father is Woodrow Wilson Hoyt."

* * *

Woody pulled up his chair to his desk and got to work…but this case was going to be difficult to push any further until Nigel got him the ballistic report back. He had gone over to the morgue, trying not to glance too many times at her darkened and still-locked office. Nigel was in Dr. Macy's office…deep in an animated conversation and Emmy had said they couldn't be disturbed. Woody had briefly wondered what was up, as the Brit looked just a tad more anxious than usual and Dr. Macy had also worn a concerned look. He had left a message on Nigel's desk that he needed those ballistic reports stat…and to please fax a copy over ASAP.

He had just settled in to looking through his other files when a thick envelope landed on top of his desk. He looked up to see where it came from. Framus was standing over him. "I don't know what the hell you're doing with the Albanian mob thing, Hoyt, but you're stepping on too many toes. An _unnamed_ FBI agent just dropped this information off for you and told me to tell you to read it and stay the hell out of their case."

Woody grinned. If the FBI was sending information to the police precinct for him via anonymous agents, then he was on the right trail. He was correct in his assumptions. He may be one step closer to breaking the mob and getting her back. He may not could do anything about the European leaders, but he could make life miserable for the mob in Boston. "Like hell I will," he told Framus with a smirk.

"That's what I thought you'd say," she replied with a wink.

"But that's what you're going to have to do," said a voice from the doorway. It was Rene' Walcott. "Detective Hoyt, I just received a very interesting phone call from the local FBI chief. He brought to my attention that you've been investigating the Albanian mob. To the best of my knowledge, the Boston PD has no outstanding cases with this group." She gave Woody her best DA stare-down. Woody swallowed hard. "I told him I wasn't personally aware of any deliberate investigations going on with the mob, but some of our other homicides may have weak links to them, and that you are very thorough in your work.

"I got you off the hook, detective. This time. The next time you may not be so lucky." She walked over to Woody's desk and sat on the edge, so she could look him closely in the face. "I understand your desire to dismantle the mob and bring her back, Woody. I do. I know what it's like to love someone you can't have." Her face grew wistful for a moment. "But I can't have you endangering this police department with the mob or our relationship with the FBI. More importantly, Jordan must be kept safe….and if you nose around too much, they may go after her. You know that. I can't ask you not to inquire from time to time with the FBI about how the Albanian mob case is proceeding. They know of your interest in the case and the reason behind it. I am asking you not to investigate any further on your own and leave it to the system to exact justice from this situation. Have I made myself clear, detective?"

Woody nodded. "Crystal," he said, slamming the door behind Walcott.


	8. Just Get Here Soon

**Chapter Eight**

Time was doing Woody no favors. As more weeks passed, accumulating into months, Jordan's safety and the FBI case with the Albanian mob plagued him…wrestling in his thoughts. He continued to work…he continued to be one of Boston's best detectives, but his friends and co-workers could see the change in the man. He was, as Framus had feared, becoming bitter. And solitary. It was not unusual to see him at work all hours of the day and night. He rarely went out socially. He never dated. As a matter of fact, if he had ten dollars for every time a friend would try to fix him up with "a really nice-looking girl, with a great personality," he could probably afford that vacation to St. Thomas he had been wanting for years.

He would smile at their requests and simply reply, "I'm not ready, yet." Jordan still had his heart. Each time his phone would ring during off hours….in the middle of the night or early morning, he would hold his breath, hoping to hear her on the other end.

It never happened.

And since, in the six months since Walcott had unceremoniously thrown him off his Albanian mob investigation, he had little idea where that stood. At first, he called his FBI contact, a guy named Murrow, weekly to see where the case was at. Murrow was always less than forthcoming. Finally, Woody had just outright asked about Jordan.

There was a longer hesitation on the other end. Murrow eventually responded with a curt, "She's fine. And that's all you need to know."

"You'll let me know if that changes?"

More hesitation. "I can't promise anything, detective."

Woody ran his fingers through his hair. "How often do you talk with her?"

"The last time she spoke with me was about six months ago. She was fine, she just needed me to take care of some paperwork for her. She's under surveillance and another FBI contact talks regularly with her. If things weren't kosher, I'd know about it."

"You don't know Jordan Cavanaugh very well. She's the world's best at hiding her feelings and her condition."

Another long pause. "I do know she's fine, Woody. And I know she misses you. She asks about you all the time."

For the first time in weeks, Woody felt his heart soften just a little. She hadn't forgotten about him. She still wanted to know how he was…for a second he fought back tears. "How long is it going to be before she can come back to Boston? Or when can I go to her?"

"I'm not sure, Detective Hoyt. There are a lot of people working to clear this case and get everyone's life back to normal. But you have to prepare yourself. It could take a while."

Woody ground his teeth. Patience was no longer one of his virtues. "I can't wait forever. And neither can she. Life is slipping by us…"

"I understand."

"No. I don't think you do. But…just when you talk to her, tell her my feelings haven't changed….and to be careful and take care of herself."

"I will."

* * *

Being a single mother was more difficult than Jordan ever imagined it would be. She had six weeks of maternity leave, but got little chance to rest or to recuperate after Abigail was born. Jordan had no support system in Seattle…all the responsibility of the baby fell on her. Every three hours she was up with theinfant and Abigail was showing no signs of sleeping through the night, even at six months of age.

She was, of course, back at work now…working regular nine-to-five hours…and Abby was in daycare. Jordan wasn't thrilled at the arrangement, but it was the best she could do. She had always hoped, in the back of her mind, that when she did become a mother, she could work part time.

Circumstances being what they were, that was impossible.

So her days began early…five in the morning, and ended late at night. Usually not before midnight. And then she was up with her daughter at least once a night. It was grueling….and it was getting to her physically. She had never fully gotten over the blood loss she had at Abby's birth. Her immune system was weak and she was picking up every virus and germ that passed her way. Add in the fact that she got inadequate rest, and it was the recipe for disaster. She knew this…and so did Cal.

He had found out when the baby was born and had come to see her in the hospital, holding his niece and wishing with everything he had that his brother could be there to see his daughter. Woody would have been over the moon with excitement. If there ever was truly a man predestined to be a daddy, it was Woodrow Wilson Hoyt. And Cal knew this.

But the fewer the people that knew about the baby, the better. And most of all Woody. Garret, Nigel, and Rene' knew that Abigail had been born. And of course, the FBI. That was how Cal knew. They had phoned him.

And now Cal felt more responsible than ever. While he watched his niece flourish…for she had a great mother … he watched with alarm as Jordan's health began to decline. He came by her apartment as much as he could, which wasn't often. His job kept him away. But each time he saw Jordan, he became more and more apprehensive. He finally called her contact at the FBI.

"She's too sick to function," he told Murrow.

"Has she seen a doctor?"

"Yeah, and they're all saying the same thing. She needs to get some rest so she can get well. Right now she has the flu on top of everything else…she can't get over one illness before she comes down with another."

Murrow sighed. "Is there any possible way you…"

"Not a chance. I don't know squat about babies…and Jordan needs to be with someone she feels comfortable around. She doesn't have any close friends in Seattle yet, and she won't trust her baby to just anyone. She needs someone she knows."

"I know where you're going with this, Hoyt, and I still think it's too risky."

"He needs to know…I've said all along he needs to know….and he's going to be furious when he finds out, anyway. God knows I don't want to be in the same room with him when Jordan or you tell Woody he's a dad and has been one for six months without knowing it. You haven't seen him angry. I have," Cal said, his voice trailing off. Indeed, he had been the object of Woody's anger for more years than he cared to remember.

Murrow sighed again. "Do you think you can do this discreetly?"

"Hey, discreet is my middle name."

"No, I seem to remember Coledge is your middle name. Just….make a plan and run it by me before you do anything, okay Hoyt?"

"Will do."

* * *

Damn, why wouldn't his phone stop ringing? It was four in the morning and his cell phone wouldn't shut up. He wasn't on duty, so he didn't _have_ to answer it. He looked at the caller ID the first time it went off, hoping her cell phone number would show up, but once again, he was bitterly disappointed. Whoever was calling at this hour was certainly persistent, he'd give them that…and his middle finger when he found out whom it was calling this hour.

Finally, after the sixth time of listening to his cell phone go off, he flipped it open. "Hoyt," he barked into the phone. "And I'm off duty….so this had better be damned important."

"Woody…"

Dear God, it was Cal. "Cal…I'm in no mood for games. If you've gotten yourself in trouble, you're on your own. And if you've called to apologize again, forget it. Not now. I know you're sorry, but there's been too much water under the bridge…"

"Woody. Shut up. For two seconds, just shut up. Then you can get back on your self-righteous high horse and have another go at me. But right now it's about Jordan."

Woody's blood ran cold. "Jordan…is she okay?"

"No, Woody. She's not. She's sick and she and….she needs you."

"How do you know?"

"Because I just saw her. In her apartment. She's sick and she's not getting any better…and you need to come."

Woody threw back the bedspread and jerked a suitcase from the closet. "Where is she?" he asked, dumping clothes and toiletries in the bag.

"I can't say over the phone. Be at Logan at six. There will be someone there waiting to give you tickets. And don't say anything about this to anyone…."

"I'll have to call work…"

"Don't worry about it. I've already talked to Walcott. She's aware of the situation. She's got it covered."

"Walcott? You've talked to Walcott?"

"Yeah."

"What…How…."

"Just shut up and pack. And be at Logan by six. You only have one layover in Chicago."

"But Jordan? Is she in the hospital? How bad…"

"She's not in the hospital, but probably needs to be. She can't go with…anyway, she just can't be admitted right now."

"Cal, that makes no sense."

Cal made an impatient noise in the back of his throat. "Just….get here. Then you'll understand."


	9. Pieces of the Puzzle

**Chapter Nine**

Woody walked into Logan not knowing what … or who … to look for. He half-way expected for some sort of shadowy, covert figure to be lurking between columns with tickets in his gloved hand. Instead, Nigel was waiting for him by the gate, envelope in his coat pocket. "Here you go, Woodrow," he said, handing over the tickets. "One layover in Chicago and then it's a straight shot."

"Nigel," Wood replied, shaking his head in disbelief. "When did my brother tie you into all of this…" his voice went silent when he looked at his final destination. "Seattle? Jordan's been in _Seattle_ all this time by herself? So far away?"

Nigel nodded, realizing that the detective's frustration was rising…and he had a feeling that Woody was getting ready to pay him back in spades for what he knew. "That's the only place…and the only way we knew that we could really keep her safe. Believe me, we looked everywhere, and that was the safest…"

"_We?"_ Woody's voice was rising with incredulousness. "You knew all along where she was….and didn't tell me?"

"I couldn't. Honestly, I couldn't. And Jordan didn't want me to."

"Jordan didn't want you to?" This was getting more frustrating by the minute. First Murrow tells him that Jordan misses him and asks about him. Then Cal calls and says that she needs him. Now Nigel is telling him that Jordan didn't want the detective to know where she was at…..Woody could feel the anger rising from inside and showing on his face.

"Woody…it's not what it seems like. Truly. Jordan cares for you. No one cares for you more deeply than she does. You must trust me on that. There was a very good reason she had to keep you in the dark. The mob threatened your life…"

"And I'm a big boy, Nigel. I can take care of myself."

"She was frightened for you…so until things cooled down, she stayed in hiding."

"I'm not buying it. She could have told me…"

"They told her not to…or they would hurt you."

Woody closed his eyes and tried to tamp down his impatience and surging anger. He slowly counted to ten mentally before he replied. "Okay…who else knew where she was?"

"Myself, Garret, Rene' …. And Cal," the Brit answered, his voice lowering to a whisper.

"My own _brother_ knew and wouldn't tell me?"

"He couldn't, Woody. There's more at risk here than you know…but you're going to find out soon if you'll just get on that plane."

"More? What are you talking about?"

"I really can't say," Nigel said with more force than usual. "Just please…go to her. She needs you…really needs you right now."

* * *

Jordan was hot…burning with fever. She knew it…by the way heat was radiating off her body…the way her head pounded. She was sick…the sickest she had been with this flu bug since she picked it up a few days ago. She couldn't take much of anything for it, as the medicine would be passed along in her breast milk to Abigail.

Abigail…who was now crying once again to be fed and changed. Slowly, Jordan dragged her body off the couch where she had been resting and went to her daughter, changing her and then unbuttoning her shirt to feed her. She softly crooned a lullaby to her daughter as she nursed. Like all new mothers, Jordan was proud of her offspring. Abby had soft, downy hair, the color of her mother's. But the child had her father's eyes and dimples….a regular beauty. Abby would probably have the boys lined up at her door by the time she was twelve.

_If we both survive that long…_ Jordan thought. The way she felt right now, Jordan wasn't too sure if she was going to make it to next week, much less Abby's twelfth birthday. _If I could just get one good night's sleep…_Jordan stifled a yawn as her daughter finished nursing and fell asleep. Even in her sleep, she reminded Jordan of Woody… If she was honest, she saw him every time she looked her. The dimples…the eyes…they were all his. Abby could light up a room with her smile…just like Woody could light up Jordan's heart with his.

Woody. She thought of him daily…hourly sometimes. She missed him more now than ever. He was going to be incredibly angry with her when he discovered Abby…not with the fact that Jordan had gotten pregnant, but that she didn't tell him…confide in him before she left. She sighed. But if she had told him, he would have never allowed her to leave…or would have insisted on going with her. Or coming to be with her later, when the time came for her to deliver the baby.

And perhaps would have put himself and the baby in danger. Jordan shook her head. She couldn't have risked it for either of them. Although she did understand from Cal and Murrow that the danger was dying down…that it looked like one day she would be able to return to Boston. That would be nice….if Woody didn't go completely ballistic on her. Her heart wrenched at that thought. _I just hope that when the time comes…if it comes…and I can tell him about Abby, he will understand and forgive me. _Jordan glanced at her daughter before she put her down in the crib. There was no question in her mind that Woody would love his daughter. The question was, how would he still feel about her mother?

* * *

"Woody," Cal called out as he spotted his brother getting coming down the ramp in the airport.

"Where is she?" Woody asked. He had spent the past six hours thinking about what Nigel had told him at the airport and getting angrier by the minute. The whole situation still made no sense to him. Jordan knew he could take care of himself and her, too.

"Jordan? She's at home…in her apartment."

"Was she too sick to be here?" Woody wanted answers. And he wanted them now. Framus may be right…he may be too bitter now to ever return to being her easy-going farm boy.

Cal looked at his feet for a minute. His brother wanted to know the truth…and he needed to know everything Cal could tell him before he arrived at Jordan's apartment. "She doesn't know you're here," he finally said.

"What?"

"She doesn't know you're here. If I had told her that I was sending for you…because she needed you more than any other person to help her…she would have quickly vetoed the idea and put me on the curb."

Woody's eyes narrowed. "You've been staying with her?" he asked quietly, a dangerous edge to his voice.

"No. NO. It's nothing like that, Woods. My job brings me to Seattle and I check in on her from time to time. I was the one that set this up with the FBI."

"Why wouldn't she want me here?"

"It's still kind of dangerous…she's still afraid for you and…" Cal bit his tongue. Jordan was going to have to tell Woody about Abby. There was no way he'd be the object of his brother's wrath on that little detail.

"And?"

"And didn't want you to get hurt."

Woody grimaced. "Let's go. She has a lot of explaining to do."

The brothers drove in silence to Jordan's apartment, Woody still trying to get his bearings. This whole scenario still didn't make any sense. No one had ever held this much influence over Jordan Cavanaugh. No one had ever made her this fearful. There was another piece of the puzzle that Woody wasn't getting…he was sure of it. He could tell by what Cal _wasn't_ saying to him. Cal's body language was all nervousness. Woody held his breath as they pulled into an apartment complex and parked. "Which one is it?" Woody asked, pointing to the apartment unit they were in front of.

"It's 4-C, but Woody wait a minute…." Cal may as well have been spitting in the wind. Woody was gone, taking the stairs two at a time, and nearly beating the door down when he reached 4-C.

"Hold on…she may be asleep, and I hope she is. God knows she needs to…" Cal said, sliding a key in the lock.

"You have a key?"

Cal ignored the insinuating tone in his brother's voice. "Yeah. She gave it to me in case of an emergency…you'll understand in a minute."

The door popped open and it took Woody's eyes a minute to adjust to the dim light of the apartment. Then a soft moan caught his attention. Jordan. He found her on the couch…in a fever-induced sleep. He put his hand to her forehead…she was burning up. "Cal…call a doctor, quick…she's sick…really sick," Woody said, his mouth going dry at the sight of her so ill. "I'm going to put her to bed…where's her bedroom?" Cal pointed to a room down the hall. Woody didn't ask how Cal knew…he'd ask that question of his brother later. He simply picked Jordan up like a child, easily taking her slight weight and making his way down the hall…putting her in her bed, sliding her shoes off her feet, and pulling the coverlet up around her. Cal came to the door.

"I got in touch with a doctor…he's actually coming here. He's one that the FBI uses on occasion. He'll be here in an hour or so."

Woody nodded, his eyes staying on Jordan's face. She looked like she had been through a war zone…and hadn't slept in …God knows when. Was she that frightened? His heart twisted just a bit at the thought of her being this far away from her friends and home and feeling this scared….Still, it didn't make sense, but he shook his head as he saw her begin to come to.

She had thought she heard voices, but had assumed it was the fever playing tricks on her mind. She recognized Cal's voice and could have sworn she heard Woody's…but that was only wishful thinking…Woody was back in Boston…safe. Right? Then she had felt herself be carefully lifted and carried to bed. That wasn't a dream, she realized as the cool sheets hit her back. That was real. She tried to force her reluctant eyes open…to find them staring at a pair of familiar blue ones. "Woody?"

For the first time in months, he smiled. She was sick…Cal was right. She did need him. The rest of the puzzle would fall into place he was sure…even though it still didn't make a lot of sense…he was sure it would…

And it did, as Abigail's cry broke the silence in the apartment.


	10. The Pieces Fit

**Chapter Ten**

Jordan watched the expression in Woody's eyes change from concern to bewilderment…to anger. "A baby…" he said, his face darkening.

"Yes…" Jordan replied softly. "Ours…." She struggled to get up and go to Abigail. It was time for her to eat again. She found herself pushed back down on the bed by Woody's arm.

"We need to talk," he countered.

"Not until she eats. Your daughter has quite a temper when things don't go her way." She struggled again, only to be pushed back down one more time.

"You stay in bed. I'll get her." A daughter. He had a daughter. Woody stumbled across the hallway and into the nursery, following the direction of Cal's pointed finger. She was in the crib…crying. Woody ran a finger down the baby's cheek. It must have tickled, because suddenly the baby laughed, showing her dimples. "Hey there, little one," he cooed, "are you hungry?" Abby kicked in response. "Hang on, I'll take you to your mom."

"You might want to check her southern hemisphere first, Woods. Jordan always does that before she feeds her," said Cal from the doorway. He flipped on the light in the nursery so Woody could see better.

"So this is why Jordan needed me so badly?" he asked, picking his daughter up and moving to the changing table.

"She's needed you for six months. She just was scared that if you found out, you'd move heaven and earth to force the mob's hand and have them eradicated. Then they'd retaliate on you and the baby. She didn't have much of a choice but to keep you in the dark…she was just trying to keep everyone safe. And she paid the price."

Woody removed the soiled diaper and reached for a wipe. "So how long have you known about your niece?"

Cal sighed and pulled himself away from where he was leaning on the door jam. He figured if he was near Abby, Woody couldn't take a swing at him. "I checked in on Jordan when she was in Rhode Island. When I did, she was running the pregnancy test. Since I was the one that kind of got both of you into all of this, I thought it was my job to make sure she was safe until you could take over."

Woody was silent for a moment. "So that partly explains how you know so much…she confided in you. It still doesn't explain everything."

"No…but it goes a long way. As far as I'm willing to go right now."

"Were you around when the baby was born?"

Cal smiled. "The baby's name is Abigail Meredith Hoyt. Abby for short. Or Abs. Depends on what she's up to. And no, I wasn't around when she was born. Unfortunately. I wish I had been." Cal swallowed hard. "I thought I was going to have to tell you then you were a dad…we nearly lost Jordan."

Woody's fingers stilled on the diaper he was fastening. "What?" he asked, turning towards his brother.

"That's part of the reason she's so sick now…her blood pressure kept going up and down…Abby was taking her own sweet time…then before they could get Jordan prepped for a c-section, boom. Abby was here. Jordan lost a lot of blood…and she's been kind of weak ever since. It's like she can't get her strength back…she doesn't get a lot of rest, since she's been the only one taking care of the baby…and she's working full time again. She can't seem to fight off one sickness before she gets something else."

Woody finished fastening the diaper. "And just when were you going to call me? When she was dying?"

"Look, Woods, I've wanted to call you since the baby was born. Murrow wouldn't hear of it. Finally, I put my foot down two days ago. Jordan was just too sick…Abby was just too precious…and damn it, you needed to know how your girls were." Cal ran his fingers through his hair.

Woody pulled the baby's pajamas up and fastened them. "So…Abby…are you ready to go see Mommy? She tells me you have a terrible temper when you don't get your way. You must get that from her side of the family. Your Uncle Cal and me…we never get angry. We're real boy scouts…" He picked Abigail up and put her on his shoulder. "Cal…" hecalled back to his brother, "Thanks."

* * *

"Here you go, Mom," Woody said, delivering their daughter to Jordan. Jordan unfastened her shirt and began to nurse Abby, a little self-conscious of Woody's watching eyes, but relieved that the anger he had shown towards her had dissipated once he met his daughter. He gently stroked the baby's head as she ate.

"She's beautiful, Jo." His face held the glow of a doting dad. Jordan felt her shoulders sag with relief.

"That's because she looks like her father. Dimples and all. She's got your eyes and chin, too."

"And your hair and temper." He flashed a grin at Jordan.

"My temper?"

"Yes, yours. She acts just like you do when you don't get your way," he said, still grinning at her.

Jordan lowered her eyes. "I don't know about that. I think I've had a few hard lessons in patience over the past year or so."

Reaching out and gently tilting her face up with his hand, he made her look him in the eyes. "I know," he said softly. "And it wasn't fair that you had to do this all by yourself. And you're not going to have to any longer. We've got a doctor coming to have a look at you in just a little while. Cal says he's one that the FBI uses to make house calls. Meanwhile, you finish feeding Abby and then I'll look after her while you rest. And you will rest, so don't give me a hard time about that.

"I'm here now, Jo. And I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Jordan wasn't sure what exactly happened after that. The doctor came and Woody took Abigail. Jordan's temperature was taken and the doctor probed and prodded for a few minutes, listening to her chest, checking her lymph nodes, looking at her throat. Finally, he cleared his throat and said, "Flu…definitely the flu. Rest. Fluid. Tylenol for fever and pain. Stay in the bed until you feel better. Leave the baby to her father. That way she'll stay well and you'll be up and around before you know it."

"But…I'm nursing…" she protested.

"How old is the baby?" the doctor asked, looking Abby over.

"Six months," replied Woody.

The doctor harrumphed. "Lots of mothers…good mothers, may I add, put their infants on bottles at about that age. Helps them sleep through the night. You may want to try it for right now…at least until you get better, Jordan. You can always go back to nursing after you're well. Try the soy based formula first." He shook hands with Woody, and turned to Jordan. "Rest young lady. Lots of it." Then he left.

So she did. She rested. She slept the rest of the afternoon, only to be briefly awakened to take some Tylenol and for Woody to ask if she needed anything from the store…he was going out to get the formula. Drowsily she told him there was a list on the refrigerator. That was the last coherent thing she remembered for the next couple of days.


	11. Father Knows Best

**Chapter Eleven**

Jordan woke up two days later, a little disoriented, but feeling better. Her fever had broken, although she still felt weak. Slowly she got out of bed and made her way to the shower. It was Monday, and she had to go to work.

Woody heard the shower running and took it for a good sign…she was up. For the past two days it had been all he and Cal could do to take care of Abby. He had no idea caring for an infant took so much energy. His respect and concern for Jordan rose several degrees. If she had been doing this by herself and not feeling well, then the woman was made of stronger stuff than he ever realized. He walked to the bedroom and leaned against the door jam, watching her as she put on her make up. "Feeling better?" he asked.

"Better…still not completely well, but I need to go to work."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do. I need to keep my job."

"No. Cal's already called Murrow, who called your boss. You are to stay out this week and get better. Completely well. The lab doesn't want to see you until next Monday. Go back to bed, Cavanaugh."

"I've been in bed too long…"

Woody chuckled. "You still need to rest. If you don't want to stay in here, come into the living room and watch TV with me."

It was quiet in the apartment…Abby was in her room. Cal was no where in sight. "Where is everyone?" Jordan whispered as they sat on the sofa. She was reluctant to break the stillness of the apartment.

"Cal's gone back to work…Abby's down for her nap…it's just me and you and The Price is Right," Woody answered, indicating the program on television.

"Oh."

"Yeah, _oh_." Woody looked deep in her whiskey-colored eyes. "I think it's time we had a talk."

So now was it…he wanted her explanation now…she had rehearsed it in her head for months…ever since she found out she was pregnant with Abby. "Woody…it's like this…."

He held his hand up. "You don't have to explain anything, Jordan. Cal pretty much filled me in on everything. I understand why you had to keep your pregnancy and the baby a secret. It was to protect everyone. What I wanted to tell you was that I don't want you to have to do this alone anymore."

"But the mob…if you're here and they find out…"

"What I mean is…now that I know everything, I don't want you to feel like all this responsibility is yours. I know in a week or so I'll have to go back to Boston and right now you and Abby can't come with me. It's still not safe. I've had some long talks with Murrow and Walcott while you've been sick. I'm back on the Albanian mob case. We're going to work to defuse the situation so you can come home…soon.

"Until then, I want you to stop working so hard. Drop to part-time. I raked Murrow's ass over the coals for that…you should not have had to work so much right now. I'll make sure you and the baby are taken care of. I just want you well…so you can continue to take care of our daughter…and so you can return to Boston…and to me…as soon as possible."

Jordan let out a breath she felt like she had been holding for a long time. "You're not upset with me?"

Woody shook his head. "No. Why should I be? How could I be? You were doing what you had to."

"Good. I was so afraid you would be…"

"I'm not." He pulled her into his arms. "I have missed you, though. So much."

"I know the feeling…" She sighed with contentment as he settled her against him, pulling the throw off the back of her couch to wrap them both up in. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

H brushed her lips with his. "Well, I'm here now…and as much as I would love to take advantage of this situation, you, Dr. Cavanaugh, are still a very sick woman. So….just let me hold you until Abby wakes up."

"Aren't you afraid you'll catch my flu?"

"Nah. At least one of us was smart enough to get the flu shot."

"Funny, Woody…" but she could feel her eyes growing heavy again. Woody was right. She really was in no condition to go back to the lab. However, spending the morning sleeping in his arms sounded like just what she needed. She dozed off, feeling herself being held securely, her head on his chest, and the reassuring thump of his heart in her ear.

* * *

"You bought her a _pink,_ frilly dress?" Jordan asked later that day when she woke up again and went to change her daughter. She caught sight of several new outfits in the baby's closet. Jordan had tried to be both practical and economical when she was buying for Abby. Playsuits. Pajamas. Onesies.

No dresses.

"Yes, I did. She didn't have any and she needed at least one pink dress. And a blue dress. And a lavender one – with a hat."

"Woody, she's six months old. She'll have outgrown these in a month or two."

"And then her father will have the enjoyable task of buying her more."

Jordan rolled her eyes. "I don't want a prissy daughter."

"Then I guess I really shouldn't tell you about the crinoline, white lacey hose, and black patent leather Mary Janes I bought her either," Woody said, looking at Jordan with innocent eyes. "And maybe I shouldn't mention the pocketbook at all?"

"Dear God Woody…." Jordan exclaimed, trying unsuccessfully to sound annoyed at his frivolous spending on their daughter. "You're going to spoil her."

"At six months? I don't think so." Woody walked over to the changing table where Jordan was putting the finishing touches on Abby's diaper. "It's when she's sixteen and I cave in and buy her the new car she's wanting….that's when the spoiling comes in."

Jordan chuckled. Woody was enjoying all of this…getting up at night with Abby…feeding her…Cal had been right. Woody was a natural at this fatherhood thing.

"I did decide to buy her something very important…I want you to put this away for her…for her confirmation." He reached into a drawer in the baby's dresser and pulled about a small box. Lifting the lid, he displayed a rosary…a very beautiful one. "I followed the Irish tradition of the father buying his daughter her first rosary."

Jordan carefully lifted it out of the box. "Oh…Woody. I'm sure when the time comes….it will mean so much to her. My dad bought me my first one…and I still have it." She swallowed hard. Jordan had been out of church for a while, but now, with the responsibility of a child, she had been thinking about going back. "I guess we really need to think about a christening, too."

"I'd like that. Very much. But I'd like to wait until you both are back in Boston and have it at St. Inez. That way your friend Paul can do it."

Jordan smiled. "That would be nice."

Woody hedged for a moment. He wanted to ask her something else, but Abby's cry for her lunch broke the conversation. Jordan took her to the kitchen while Woody warmed the bottle. Then sitting on the sofa, they fed her together.

He had realized something during this time. He enjoyed taking care of his daughter and her mother more than he ever thought he would. He didn't want to leave at the end of next week, but he had to. If he stayed longer, he could endanger the mob investigation. And his goal was to get his girls home. Have Abby christened.

Marry Jordan.


	12. Incentive to Solve the Case

**Chapter Twelve**

Jordan watched Woody's cab drive away from her apartment. As much as she had wanted to see him off at the airport, they both knew it would not have been safe. So he had said his good byes last night and this morning…catching an early morning cab afterwards and heading toward the terminal to catch a plane back to Boston.

He had stayed two weeks with them in Seattle, during which he had bonded with Abby on such a level that Jordan wondered why she ever wondered if he would accept the baby and be a good father. He was totally besotted with his daughter…buying Abby more toys and clothes before he left….checking into college funds….feeding her…changing her.

Woody had likewise taken care of Jordan. He made her rest so she could get over the flu. Then he snooped around the apartment to see if there was anything she was lacking and needed. For a woman who had always taken great pride in being self sufficient, Jordan was amazed at how comfortable it felt letting Woody take the lead sometimes. He had fixed the ice maker in the freezer, replaced the do-hickey in the bathroom that kept leaking, and bought Jordan a new winter coat because "the other one seemed too light-weight for Seattle winters, and I can't stand the thought of you being cold."

As the days had slipped by and Jordan regained her health, she also began to dread the time he would leave. Two weeks worth of Woody was not enough. He was due to fly out on Sunday. Friday afternoon, she approached him after she had gotten off work. "How soon do you think it will be before I can come home?" she asked.

"Homesick?" he asked.

"Yeah…something like that. I have been since the minute I had to leave for Rhode Island."

He had hugged her to him tightly. "Soon. I promise very soon. Walcott is working on this one like a possessed woman. The FBI is cooperating….and I'm back on the case. Just…hang in there for a couple more months…and soon you'll be eating New England Clam Chowder in Beantown again."

She had nodded and agreed. But even that seemed too long to be without him.

He had hugged her…kissed her passionately, but they had no time together since he had come to Seattle. Jordan had been sick…Cal had been there…Abby didn't sleep through the night…Woody had been sleeping in the baby's bedroom to take care of her so that he wouldn't wake Jordan.

But things were different now. Cal was gone. Abby was sleeping all night long now, thanks to the bottle. They could have some uninterrupted time. Quietly, Jordan slipped into her bedroom and changed into a black negligee she had secretly purchased one day on her lunch hour. She could hear Woody getting ready for bed. He paused in the hall to tell her good night.

"Could you come here just a minute?" she asked, almost timidly.

"Sure…what's wrong?" he replied, not suspecting what lay behind her closed door. He lost his breath when he pushed it open and entered the room. "Jordan?" he asked, not completely sure of himself…or her.

"I've missed you, Woody. And I'm going to miss you even more when you leave on Sunday. I….I…I'd like some time with you tonight….please?"

She didn't have to ask twice…although her shy stammer made him flash back to the night at his apartment they spent together before she had to leave for Rhode Island…the night that Abigail was conceived.

That thought stopped him. He wasn't prepared…and it was far too early in Abby's life or their relationship for them to think about another life entering the picture. "Jordan…as much as I want to….I don't have….anything…"

She strolled over to him with what she hoped was her best seductive walk. When she reached him, she slowly began to unbutton his shirt, and leaned up to take his earlobe between her teeth for just a second before she whispered, "Got that covered, boss."

Woody felt a warmth rush over him…starting at his chest and radiating southward. "You're sure?"

"Yeah. I want you, detective," she said, her voice husky. "Please?"

Woody slid a slow trail of kisses down her neck, and felt her neck tilt to allow him better access. "Since you said please…" The kisses continued along her collarbone until he got to the sleeve of her peignoir. He smoothly pushed that off her arm and continued to kiss her shoulder, and then traced her collarbone with kisses back to the other arm, where he repeated the process, finally working his way overto her lips, catching them in a kiss.

A kiss that was quickly spinning out of control. Jordan felt her head lean back and her mouth open under the pressure of his. As his tongue began to gently duel with hers, his fingers found their way up and around her neck to undo the tie at the base of her head that held her nightgown up, releasing it from her body.

At that point, Jordan was thankful Woody was a strong man…strong enough to hold her weight, because her knees were turning weak…he kissed his way back down her neck, to the tops of her breasts. Then hearing her moan and feeling her lean against him, he picked her up and carried her to bed.

Which proved to be an exercise in endurance for her. He quickly slid her nightgown the rest of the way off, shrugged out of his own shirt, and began to kiss her again…all the time letting his hands rediscover her. "Sweet Jesus…." She heard him groan against her lips. "I've missed you…being with you like this…."

He was demanding of her….but he gave generously, too. She found it easy to get caught up in his kisses, forget everything but his caresses, until the time came. He reached under the pillow to get the condom and she stopped him. Tenderly, he pushed the curls out of her eyes. "What is it, Jordan…do you want me to stop?"

She shook her head no, but ran a finger lightly down his cheek. "It's just that this…this is the first time since…Abby was born….that I….and …"

He smiled down at her. "Sh…it's okay…we'll go slow…" he said before he gently eased himself inside her…feeling a brief resistance and hearing her catch her breath and tense just a minute. Then he felt her relax and heard her soft sigh. "Good to go?" he asked, brushing her lips with his. She nodded and arched against him, all the while shifting to hold him closer. He kissed her then and they both began to move…until the tension built and he felt her clinch around him and felt her shudder…and he followed closely behind her.

When it was over, he held her tightly, her head on his chest…snuggled together under the blankets. "How am I supposed to return to Boston after that?" he quietly asked, tilting her head up so she could look him in the eyes

"_That_ was to give you incentive to go back and solve this Albanian mafia thing quickly."

"Was that all it was…incentive? Although, God knows….it does make me want to close the case soon."

"No. It wasn't just incentive. I have missed you….I will miss you. We were just beginning to be able to function as a couple and then all this mess with Albie started…"

"And we'll be together again soon. All the time. Back in Boston. You. Me. Abby."

Jordan ran her hand down his chest, stopping right below his navel to rub lazy circles. "I sure hope so."

Woody smiled and rolled her over onto her back, and placed a pillow under her hips. "It will happen. Don't worry. Let's just make the most of tonight…and then tomorrow night, okay?"

Jordan couldn't reply…his lips were on hers and he was intent on demanding even more of her.

Not that she minded. No. She didn't mind much at all.


	13. Dues Paid in Full

**Chapter Thirteen**

Woody had never worked harder in his life. Once he returned to Boston, he remained intensely focused on the mob…infiltrating it….ending it once and for all or at least make it hemorrhage so badly that it would never fully recover and die a slow death. Rene' had freed him from most of his other detective duties and the FBI was allowing him full access to the case…within reason. "You have to understand that this is our sting," Murrow told him. "This is a courtesy between our office and the Boston PD."

"And the FBI doesn't have a personal stake in this…I have a wif—the mother of my daughter and my daughter caught in the crosshairs of your operation." He nearly said what he had been thinking for the weeks since he had returned from Seattle. Wife. He was already thinking of Jordan as his wife…in his mind…in his dreams…in his plans for their future, even if he hadn't asked her yet.

Thanks to a secure line, they had been able to talk, at least once a day, sometimes more often. Jordan would put the phone to Abby's ear so that the baby would remember her father's voice. Sometimes she would coo and other times try to eat the receiver. Woody dealt with it fine until one night Jordan told him Abby had something important to tell him. She put the phone to Abby's small face and Woody could hear Jordan in the background encouraging their daughter, "Say it, baby…say what we've been practicing today.."

Woody nearly lost it when he heard Abby's voice say "Dada" on the other end of the line.

"When did she learn that?" he asked after Jordan came back on the phone when Abby had repeated the word a dozen more times.

"We've been practicing for a couple of days. I wanted to surprise you."

"Well…you did. God, I miss her, Jordan. I miss you and her…are you both doing okay?"

"As well as can be expected. We miss you and want to come home."

"Soon….very soon."

And the case was coming together very quickly. There was an inside informant that had been working in the mob for months…one that the mob initially didn't trust, but had come to grudgingly confide in. He was to meet with the Boston PD and FBI in two nights to be wired. Then he was to attend a meeting with the Albanian mob bosses that had flown in from Europe. Hopefully, if everything happened the way the informant predicted, it would all be over…and by the end of the week, Jordan and Abby should be home.

Woody prayed harder than he ever did in his life. He wanted his girls home. He was tired of worrying and wondering. Jordan was doing better…she was working part time and getting more rest. She was healthier, Woody could hear it in her voice when they talked.

He also heard a familiar ache in her tone…he knew it well because he was sure his voice had the same one in it. She was homesick for Boston, for her friends, and mostly for him.

So on the night that he, the Boston PD, and the FBI were to meet with the informant, he held his breath and tried to focus…and he did until the informant walked into the room. It was Cal.

"You can shut your mouth now, bro," Cal said, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole situation.

Open-mouthed, Woody had looked wordlessly from Murrow to Rene to his chief. "How…how….long?"

"Since the initial raid at the Albanian bar you made over a year ago. Cal came to us. He's proved to be a valuable insider. But having him and Jordan so close to you was tricky. We had to keep you in the dark to keep you, her, and Cal safe," said Murrow.

The pieces were beginning to fit a little tighter in the puzzle. Woody watched as Cal was carefully wired and it was tested. "Does Jordan know?" Woody asked suddenly, wondering exactly how much had been kept from him.

"As far as I know she doesn't have a clue. I wasn't about to tell her. She either would have tried to help, talk me out of it, or tattle to you," Cal said. "Am I good to go?" he asked Murrow.

"Yep. Be careful, Hoyt."

Cal grinned and walked over to Woody. "See, I told you I was turning my life around…trying to be like you…am I forgiven?"

Woody hugged his brother. "You were forgiven months ago. Now go catch the bad guys."

And with a wave, Cal was gone.

* * *

Shaking his head, Woody tried to remember exactly what happened in the last 24 hours. Cal's wired meeting with the mob had been successful. The Boston PD raided the meeting and they arrested the local mob leaders. The FBI had gotten the European ones.

Cal was praised for his work and initiative. Rene' was trying to nominate him for some kind of award. He said he really just wanted to go somewhere and sleep for a month. He had gotten precious little rest since he found out Jordan was pregnant … he had worked double time to make sure she was kept safe and could be reunited with Woody.

And now Woody was waiting at the airport for Jordan and Abby. He had called her immediately after all the prisoners had been booked and told her what happened. Nigel was e-mailing her the ticket information. "Pack your clothes and Abby's toys…we'll worry about a crib and stuff when you get here. Just….just come home."

"I understand congratulations are in order, detective," a voice said behind him. It was Garret. He and Nigel had come to greet Jordan, too.

"Yeah…they're coming home."

"How does it feel to be a dad?"

Woody swallowed hard. "Great…scary…"

Garret nodded. "I remember….it's a big job, but it has great rewards."

"So how long have known about Abby?"

"Since the day she was born. It was hard as hell keeping it from you. I tried to avoid you as much as possible."

"I understand…"

"And now it's over."

"No, I'd say it was just beginning," Woody quietly answered as the announcement that Jordan's plane had arrived and they saw her walk down the ramp into the terminal, holding Abby.

* * *

"They gave you a shower?" Jordan asked incredulously as she and Abby entered Woody's apartment, now a little cramped with all the baby gear.

"Yep. Got a crib, a stroller, one of those diaper thingies, diapers…clothes…you name it, we got it."

Jordan surveyed the baby paraphernalia with interest. It looked like someone had just bought out the Baby Superstore. "How many people were at this shower, Woody?" as she put down a sleeping Abby in the new crib that Woody had set up.

"Let's see….it was all the morgue employees, of course. And the Boston PD. And your friends at the FBI."

She sighed. "Then I don't think we're going to need anything for a long time, detective."

Woody shook his head. "I don't think so. I spoke to Paul at St. Inez….we can get Abigail christened in two weeks."

Jordan smiled. "That would be good…really nice."

"He was really excited for us. Said he hoped it would be the first of many christenings for us…." Woody's voice trailed off as he read the surprise in Jordan's eyes.

"Many?'

"Yeah, I'd like a couple of more kids…what about you?"

"Woody….I don't know….I mean, Abby was so difficult….Maybe because I had to do it all by myself."

"I'd be there this time….for you…as your husband." Woody's voice dropped to a whisper as he pulled her to him.

"Husband?" Her voice came out as a squeak.

"Ummhmmm. What do you say, Dr. Cavanaugh? Feel like changing your name one more time?"

Once again Jordan smiled up at him. They had both danced with the devil himself with this Albanian mob case…they had danced and then paid the dues for it. Maybe…just maybe now it was time to relax and enjoy Abby and each other for awhile. Giving a staged dramatic sigh, she rolled her eyes and said, "Yes, but this is absolutely the last time."

"It'd better be," growled Woody, swinging her around the small space in their apartment before carrying her to the bedroom.


End file.
